“We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin’ weed, horse mint, an’ sassafras as medicine.

“When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an’ sometimes little niggers only had clabber milk an’ dey et it in de trough wid de pigs, an’ sometimes dey only had pie crusts an’ bread crusts at night when dey et on de cabin flo’.  Dem was hard times afte’ de War.

“’Nother time one nigger run ‘way frum our plantation an’ hid by day an’ traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn’t git him an’ he hid in a hollow tree.  Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an’ hit was so slick inside an’ so high ’til he couldn’t clim’ out, an’ afte’ while de ole bear came back an’ throw in half a hog.  Den she go ‘way an’ come ag’in an’ throw in de other half.  ‘Bout a hour later, she came back an’ crawl in back’ards herse’f.  De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail an’ pulled hisself out.  Hit scared de bear so ’til she run in one direction an’ de nigger in ’nother.  But de nigger, he run in de direction of his marster’s place an’ said he’d neber run off again as long as he libed.

“I can’t ’member de old songs but dese niggers today can’t sing lak dat neither ‘cause dey ain’t libed back dere, an’ dey can’t feel hit lak us old folks.  Dem was de good old days allright, an’ dey was hard days too.”

JAMES LUCAS Natchez, Mississippi

James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams County.  Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped.  His woolly hair is white, and his eyes very bright.  He wears a small grizzled mustache.  He is always clean and neatly dressed.

“Miss, you can count up for yo’se’f.  I was born on October 11, 1833.  My young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope’ty of his uncle, Marse W.B.  Withers.  He was a-goin’ through de papers an’ a-burnin’ some of ’em when he foun’ de one ’bout me.  Den he says, ’Jim, dissen’s ’bout you.  It gives yo’ birthday.’

“I recollec’ a heap’ bout slav’ry-times, but I’s all by myse’f now.  All o’ my frien’s has lef’ me.  Even Marse Fleming has passed on.  He was a little boy when I was a grown man.

“I was born in a cotton fiel’ in cotton pickin’ time, an’ de wimmins fixed my mammy up so she didn’ hardly lose no time at all.  My mammy sho’ was healthy.  Her name was Silvey an’ her mammy come over to dis country in a big ship.  Somebody give her de name o’ Betty, but twant her right name.  Folks couldn’ un’erstan’ a word she say.  It was some sort o’ gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an’ it soun’ dat funny.  My pappy was Bill Lucas.

“When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on de week-a-days.  Dey was long an’ had big collars.  When de seams ripped de hide would show through.  When I got big enough to wait ‘roun’ at de Big House an’ go to town, I wore clean rough clo’es.  De pants was white linsey-woolsey an’ de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de plantation.  In de winter de sewin’ wimmins made us heavy clothes an’ knit wool socks for us.  De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an’ long leggin’s lak de sojers wear.  Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an’ it wropt ‘roun’ an’ ‘roun’ dey legs an’ fas’n at de top wid a string.